


Together

by Upupanyway



Series: Getting there [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Matt Murdock, Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Vulnerability, by getting naked a lil bit, i don't know what this is but guess what im bored and holed up at home, matt helps foggy explore his sexuality, not-so straight foggy nelson, so now im writing about penises, you know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: At the end of the day, they care about each other, and that's enough.Foggy may not be as straight as originally planned, and Matt helps him work through his sexuality.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Getting there [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684483
Comments: 9
Kudos: 112





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> aight round 2: be nice to the boys time

The rain in New York killed the city when it came down hard and heavy, and there was a storm outside. The concrete released whatever exhaust and grime it had gathered in the sun, the worms came out to die, and the modicum of natural earth there still was left along the pavement grew waterlogged and limp. It was petrichor and gasoline. It was stone and sewage.

And hyacinths.

A knock at the door jolted Matt from his position at his desk. It came again, more urgent the second time.

"Matt? Are you in there?" Foggy's voice called, and Matt scrambled to his feet.

"Yeah, sorry," he said instead of greeting. "I had my earplugs in. For all the thunder." He turned to give Foggy a view of them and he let the man inside. The world was slightly muffled, but not enough to drown out Foggy's sniffling. "Were you just out in this? Are you cold?"

"Yeah," answered Foggy, not moving from his spot, but taking off his shoes. His wet socks make squelch on his carpet. "Sorry. The subway was down at the usual station. Something about weather conditions."

"No umbrella?"

"It broke. I had to chuck it on my way. Listen, I'm really sorry, but your place was closer and I," he swallowed, then sniffled again. "I could really use a friend right now."

"Of course," Matt said without hesitation. Like everything, he was such a sucker for Foggy. "Why don't you take a warm shower and I'll fetch you some clothes?"

"Sounds perfect, thanks. You're a real pal."

Matt's heart didn't lurch anymore. Not at comments like that anyway. "Of course. Anytime," he said, trying for a reassuring smile.

So he listened, muffled as the sounds were, to Foggy undressing methodically in his bathroom. The wet stick of his clothes as they peeled off his cold skin, the uneven drips as he wrung out what he could in the bathtub before laying them out on the counter. They'd have to be dry cleaned, Matt thought. Foggy didn't always have the best clothes, but they had tough fabrics sometimes. Things with interesting textures that had to be tended carefully. Things that pooled and spread out under his touch. Gentle things for Foggy's soft skin.

Matt took a pair of Foggy's boxers, knitted cotton and nylon, and brought it over to his living room where he laid it out with the rest of the clothes. A pair of lined sweatpants and a T-shirt that had once been Matt's.

He waited on the couch next to them like an offering, and he crossed his arms and started to doze to the sound of Foggy scrubbing at himself. When the shower turned off, Matt headed towards the kitchen to busy his hands. Tea would be a comfort.

He waited for the water to boil as Foggy squirted some lotion into his hands and massaged his own skin. Matt filled his strainers with his mixed loose leaf tea, something nutty with sweet mushrooms for earthiness. It would be grounding.

He poured the water, steam escaping the kettle and landing on his face. The apartment was so hot amidst the cold outside, and it opened up all the dormant fragrances of the leaves and the oils on Foggy's skin.

Finally, the door opened to a haze of heat. Foggy walked calmly towards the couch, wrapped in nothing but a towel. His skin was still sticky from the water, and now it was warm with life. It would have to be with all the steam around the apartment.

Foggy had asked, a long time ago, whether nudity bothered Matt.

The answer had been no, of course. He figured that his senses hardly registered clothing or the lack thereof, and he had never been shy about bodies. What were they, after all, but the immaculate creation of God's intent? What was the point in finding shame there?

He had been a virgin, then. Unthinking. It came back to bite him in the ass because it gave Foggy permission to carelessly undress in front of him. Not sensually, but unashamedly. He was comfortable in his body and unabashed in the face of their intimate living situation. He had thought it more practical.

Matt hadn't known nudity would be so sacred. The air would shift, subtly but it would. The room would be dripping with pregnancy, eager and anxious in the face of possibility. The air would be so thick with it that Matt couldn't understand how Foggy ignored it.

The clothes shuffled against Foggy's skin as he dressed, dragging fabric across his long legs, his arms, his stomach.

When the tea was steeped, he opened up his jar of wildflower honey and stirred a small spoonful into Foggy's mug.

"Hey, I think I left my brown cardigan here last time. Have you seen it by any chance?"

"No," Matt said automatically. "I put a load of laundry in a while ago, though. Maybe it's in the dryer?"

Foggy hummed, heading to the corner where the laundry machines were tucked into a closet and he reached up to open the dryer. Matt held his breath.

"Yep, found it!" he heard Foggy call. He listened as Foggy put it on. "It's still all staticky. How long has this all been here? These are all mine."

"I don't know. I couldn't sort any of it, so I figured they were yours."

"Couldn't be bothered to fold any of it though, huh?" Foggy joked.

"Sorry."

"No, Matt. Listen, thanks for washing my clothes. This is on me. You don't owe me anything."

Oh, if only that were true. He owed Foggy so much, and then some. The cardigan still smelled like Matt and his shame, and whether that was some phantom olfactory illusion or real, he couldn't discern.

"So, what brings you here?" Matt asked to change the subject.

“Sit with me.”

Matt did as he was told without question, sitting down and pushing a warm mug into Foggy’s broad hands. His fingers weren’t cold anymore. They brushed against Matt’s just for a second, and it sent a jolt throughout his entire spine. 

“Sorry, I think I just shocked you,” Foggy said, chuckling childishly as he took a sip of tea. He let out a low hum of pleasure that sent Matt’s head all airy. “You always make the best tea.”

“Thanks,” he responded, feeling detached from himself.

“Hm,” Foggy said, leaning sideways to rest his head on Matt’s shoulder.

“You were upset about something, I think.”

“I feel much better now, though.”

Matt pressed his cheek into Foggy’s hair, the scents of Matt’s home emanated from him. Familiar, intimate. “Tell me, Fogs.”

The man sighed sadly before taking another sip of his tea. “Alina has to go back to Barbados. Her mother is sick and it’s chronic.”

“Oh?”

“She has a few siblings, but she insisted, apparently. They’re all married with young kids. It would be too much work to uproot them. She said she’s already a widow. She’s already had a chance at family. She might as well be useful like this."

“That’s,” Matt started, but he didn’t have any thoughts to follow it up. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, and there was no punching one’s way out of it. “Hard.”

“I mean, I get it, you know? And it’s not like we were thinking of anything permanent, but it still hurts. Not that she chose her mom over me, because I get that. Just that breaking it off didn’t seem like it meant anything to her.”

“Was she cold?” Matt asked, ice in his veins.

“No, nothing like that. Just, more calculated than I was expecting, I guess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Foggy chuckled softly, running his fingers around the ceramic mug. “You can’t shoulder every burden.”

“You’re allowed to be sad,” Matt told him, equally soft. He closed his eyes and let Foggy’s breathing ground him to the space. If he were to sling an arm around the back of the couch, would it be too close? He did it anyway, and Foggy shifted to accommodate, his head landing on Matt's chest.

"I don't even know if I loved her, you know?” he said quietly into Matt’s shirt. "But I got used to her."

And Matt, well. He was a best friend. That was his role, and it came with responsibilities. “It’s gonna be okay. These things happen.”

Foggy sobbed on quietly.

“Hey, at least you’ll always have me,” Matt tried, rubbing Foggy’s back in small motions. He left little trails on the familiar cardigan, writing out notes like “I’ll love you as long as you’ll take me,” in the form of oblong circles.

Finally, his friend let out a stuttering laugh. “You’re supposed to be comforting me,” he said, digging a finger into Matt’s side. There had been a bruise there, and Matt let out a muffled groan.

“Dick,” he said.

“Takes one to know one,” Foggy retorted. He finished his mug and set it down on Matt’s coffee table, leaving cold air in his wake.

Matt pulled him back to the couch and enveloped him in a proper hug, letting Foggy land awkwardly on his lap. His fractured femur stung, but Foggy was warm and present on top of him. There were always sacrifices to get to the good things in life.“Now you have more free time to pay attention to me,” he joked, but Foggy didn’t pull away. His shoulders started to shake, and the scent of his mucus hit the air. “Fogs?” Matt said gently, pulling away. “I’m sorry. That was probably out of line. Please spend your time how you want. You’re not my carer.”

Foggy shook his head. “No, it’s not that. Just, thank you. You’re a real pal.”

Matt smiled, though he doubted it reached his eyes. He pulled Foggy back towards him to make up for it, and continued to try to soothe. “Yeah, that’s me. A real pal.”

He woke up later in the night, wrapped a blanket. Foggy was breathing somewhere to his left, and he heard the occasional page turn.

“Foggy?” he asked, voice stale from his sleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s only 11pm. You were only out for a few minutes. I sat up to pee, but you were already gone, and I figured you needed the sleep,” Foggy said gently.

“What are you reading?” Matt cleared his throat and patted down his hair, hoping he didn’t look too disheveled.

“The Giving Tree,” Foggy answered in a pleasant voice. No trace of the tears, though, so that was a plus.

“That’s a good one. My dad used to read it to me.” He shoved the blankets away and stood to stretch, wincing where his body stabbed instead of ached.

“That explains a lot about you, actually,” said Foggy, setting the book down. He stepped towards Matt and grabbed him by the shirt. He smelled like Matt’s detergent and shampoo. “Someone should be there to return the favour,” he said, before planting a tender kiss to the corner of Matt’s gaping mouth.

Matt gasped awake. The blanket was still on top of him. Foggy was reading behind him, on his dining table. “How long was I out?”

“About half an hour. It’s nearly midnight. You seemed tired.”

“What are you reading?”

“Your doctor’s notes,” Foggy told him. Not cold, but hurt, maybe.

Matt groaned and counted down from ten.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? This is how I have to find out you had to have a lung drained?”

“You were out at the time,” Matt explained.

“I don’t care what I’m doing! You have to tell me these things, Matt!” Foggy hissed, turning to him. “Friendship goes two ways, you know. I want to be there for you, but when you keep  _ hiding _ things from me, you’re not letting me take care of you.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Let me worry,” Foggy said simply. “I want to worry about you. I come to you when I have things to share because I trust you with it. I want to be someone you trust with everything.”

Matt winced. “Okay,” he promised, though it was a lie.

“Do you think I can’t handle it or something?” Foggy said, growing harsh and his face heating. “Because I hate to break it to you, but I’ve been able to roll with everything you’ve thrown at me so far, and trust me, it’s been a lot. I’m invested now, and I’m going to see you grow old and happy, do you hear me?”

“Why?”

“Why do you think, numbskull?”

“Foggy-”

His chair made a discordant sound with his hardwood as Foggy stood. He stepped around the couch and took up the floor in front of Matt, kneeling. Matt could feel his scrutiny. Slowly, he reached out and took Matt by the wrist, guiding it to Foggy’s cheek. It was gritty from the salt of his tears. Still wet. The touch was too much, and Matt flung his hand back, his hand throbbing as if it had been stung.

“I’ll worry about you regardless. Don’t you get it by now? We’re best friends, and that means we’re best friends. I won’t always understand, but I want to be in the loop. I want to see you happy. Do you get that?”

Matt wanted more than anything to pull Foggy onto his lap for a long time. It wasn’t an option, though. “It’s not your responsibility. I know you have your own life, and I don’t want to drag you down. I don’t want you to stick around out of a sense of obligation or-”

“That’s not what this is. It’s reciprocal. When I come to you at night, dripping wet and weeping, do you comfort me because you have to?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Foggy was silent for a long moment. He sighed, as if exasperated, as if Matt were the one being obtuse.

“I love you, too.”

Matt shook his head, slowly, though his heart was beating fast. He brushed some hair out of Foggy’s face, he stroked his cheek. He gave ample time for Foggy to turn away before he kissed him softly.

“It’s not the same,” Matt reiterated.

They breathed into the air between them for a long second, and Matt let his hands fall away to his sides.

“Since when?” Foggy asked at last.

“Second year?”

“Law school?”

“Undergrad.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” Foggy sighed, falling onto the floor and knocking his knee against the coffee table.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Foggy lay there for a long time, still and rigid. His heart betrayed nothing, and Matt sat tensely waiting for something, anything to happen. The silence was excruciating.

“I’m not expecting anything from you,” Matt said, just to try to clear the air. “This isn’t one of those things where I try to be nice to you so that you’d date me. I don’t-" he started.  _ I don't need you to do anything _ . But that was a lie. "Can we stay friends, at least?”

“Can you give me a second? I’m thinking about our entire friendship.”

Matt’s stomach turned to lead and he sat still.

“I’m sorry, Matty.”

Matt nodded. He understood. If Foggy had to leave and never look back, it had been inevitable from the beginning. Perhaps it would be better for the both of them, finding their places without each other. Foggy would be able to live his life in the light as he deserved. Matt could be left to the streets and the Devil.

It took a second to realize that Foggy was still talking. He took the plugs out of his ears and set them on the table.

“What was that?”

“Your superhearing crap out on you?” Foggy laughed dryly. “I said I’m willing to try, but I’m not ready for anything serious. I just got out of a relationship, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. I apologized.”

“You don't have to change anything.”

“But I want to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Kiss me again,” he said, scrambling upright and shifting forward between Matt’s knees. Matt turned away.

“You’re not queer, though. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been affected by men.”

“What if we give it the old college try and if it doesn’t work, we’ll still be friends? I’m getting on in years, Matt. There’s not much more left in the way of pride or labels. I know that I love you, and I want to take care of you.” There’s a hand at Matt’s cheek, forcing him to face Foggy. “Kiss me.”

“Convince me you want this.”

“I don’t know if I do, but I want to try.”

“That’s not the same thing. I’ve already told you that I love you. It’s not," he took a shaky breath and said words he had never known he was capable of. "It's not fair if you just decide to use this as a fling or some bi-curious midlife crisis. It’s real for me, and if it’s not real for you, I’d rather not." The proposition was tempting, though. He felt his lids roll closed with Foggy’s breath so close.

Foggy laughed a little, humourless but present. He knocked their foreheads together. “I’m glad you picked this moment to be kind to your own emotional well-being,” he said before sobering and clearing his throat. “I love you more than anyone else I’ve ever met, Matty. I don’t know if it’s the same sort of thing confused little Catholic boys start wondering about when their voices start to pitch lower, but I didn’t even know I liked women until I met one willing to take me seriously.

"I had my first kiss at twenty-one and I lost my virginity at twenty-six. If I don’t know about the quality of my feelings for you, which, might I remind you, are very strong, it’s not that they’re not real, it’s because I’m slow on the uptake.”

Matt was almost convinced. Almost.

“I didn’t know we were an option, so I never really thought about it. I never considered that a man would find me desirable.”

"You've been hit on by men," Matt pointed out.

"And I was either in a relationship at the time or I assumed it was a joke. I've kept a tally, too."

“And me?" Matt asked to get to the point. "Do you find me desirable?”

Foggy huffed, grabbing Matt by the wrists and guiding his hands to Matt’s own body, his abdomen, his chest, his face. “You have the gall to ask me if I think you’re hot? We both know you’re objectively hot.”

“But do  _ you _ think so? This is important, Foggy.”

“Do you want honesty?”

He didn’t know. “Yes,” he said.

“I don’t know, yet. I’ve never experienced another man before. I never thought I’d be forty and still figuring this out. I thought I’d just need to love one person my entire life, and every time someone offered to step up to the plate, it’s been a woman.”

Foggy wanted forever. Matt could do forever. But he needed to know it was sustainable. He needed to know it wasn't just obligation or habit. He knew what he wanted. He knew he would settle, if Foggy really wanted him to, but he wanted Foggy's love.

“Do you trust me?” Matt asked.

“Of course.”

Matt shook his head and took a deep breath. “Let me know if any of this repulses you, or if it starts not being okay.” He waited for Foggy to agree, then, before he could convince himself to stop, he shuffled out of his sweatpants and boxer briefs, pooling them by his ankles.

“I’ve seen you naked before, Matt,” Foggy said, seeming unfazed.

“I know. Just wait,” Matt said. He took off his shirt and placed it carefully beside himself. “Touch me and tell me how you feel.”

“If this is how you ask for all your handjobs, I'm shocked you ever got laid” Foggy tried, tentatively smoothing his hands at Matt’s knees.

“Foggy, be serious. I need to know if you’ll be into this. And you can stop at any time.”

“Okay,” Foggy said. Slowly, he trailed his hands higher, up his thighs. Before he reached his dick, though, he took the time to feel at Matt’s chest, playing with the hair there and following his ribcage to his sides. “You have so many scars,” Foggy said.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, trying to focus with Foggy touching him everywhere.

Foggy took his time, tracing them all but not asking any questions.

“Well?” asked Matt after prolonged silence.

“You’re beautiful, Matt. What do you want me to say?” Foggy leaned forward to press a kiss onto Matt’s sternum. His fingers sunk lower to comb through Matt's pubic hair. “Can I?”

“Yes,” Matt said, breathless and hot. He was already more than half hard. “Please.”

“I know my way around one of these,” Foggy said jovially, though his heart was hammering. He went in, playing with Matt’s hardening flesh expertly. Matt bit his lip, trying to stay still and quiet.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

Matt swallowed, head already spinning from Foggy’s warmth. “God, Foggy. Anything you want.”

So, without any pause, Foggy licked him, just the once, and Matt shivered violently.

“You’re really sensitive, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” Matt said, biting his lip harder.

“Mmhmm,” Foggy mimicked mockingly, pressing Matt’s head against his lips. His tongue darted out again, flicking into a loose swirl precisely twice before lips enveloped him for a shallow suck.

“Have you done this before?” Matt asked. He already felt a little electric.

“Not on a dick. I’ve seen it done countless times, though. Maybe I learned something.”

Matt flushed, and Foggy's hand didn't stop its teasing hold “Don’t stop on my account," he sighed.

Foggy snorted before turning his attention back onto more important matters. “Just so you know, I’ve never dealt with anyone so big, so don’t expect anything spectacular.”

“I would never,” Matt said absently as Foggy’s grip tightened around his shaft.

He stroked, lazy and teasing, as his tongue became acquainted with Matt’s skin. He started at the juncture of Matt’s hip and worked his way up, tongue flat and warm and wet. When Matt started shaking, he slowed down, taking a moment to massage his sack and swallowing Matt’s length halfway until he started to gag at it. 

Matt grabbed at his cushions to stop himself from thrusting into Foggy’s inquisitive mouth. Foggy was the entire world with his swollen lips and slick spittle. The flesh of his cheeks, warm and soft, his tongue, still writing sonnets under his dick, the way his throat would seize around Matt when he got too ambitious, tried to take too much, it was an orchestra of sensation.

Foggy reached out and grabbed Matt by the wrist. He pulled Matt's hand to his hair and let go of Matt's wet cock.

"You can pull, if you want," he said hoarsely, the air from his breath tickling Matt's skin. Matt shivered and stroked at Foggy’s hair, still a little damp from his shower.

Experimentally, he pulled, and Foggy moaned around him, mouth vibrating with interest. Foggy was still stuffed with him, sucking hard. Matt tried it again, pulling sideways, just enough to feel the graze of Foggy’s teeth. Matt twitched into Foggy’s mouth and face, shaking from the sensation, and Foggy emerged from between his legs to spit into his empty tea mug.

“How was that?” Foggy asked casually, like he did when asking for critiques on his arguments. He wiped at his face with his sweater.

“Not half bad,” Matt said flatly, still feeling dazed and incoherent. “How was it for you?”

“Well, I can pretty confidently say I’m not straight.”

“Congratulations. Glad to be of service.”

“Will you kiss me now?” Foggy asked.

“I’ll do a hell of a lot more than that,” Matt said. He kicked his pants all the way off and tackled Foggy to the ground, kicking all the constraining furniture out of their way. He caught his salty mouth with his tongue. He licked his way onto Foggy’s cheek and down his neck, and everything tasted like claimed territory. Even Foggy’s shirt was now a mess with his seed.

He reached under Foggy, pulling his pants down swiftly. It was a relief to discover that he was shockingly erect. Foggy hissed as it met the air.

“Interesting,” Matt mused.

“What’s that face mean?”

“You’re bigger than I’d imagined,” he admitted with a flush.

“Bigger than you, you mean?” teased Foggy, pulling him in for another dirty kiss.

“I’m perfectly average,” Matt defended, stroking slowly.

“I disagree. I’d give you an A. Best dick I’ve had,” he said, stopping to moan openly when Matt started to pick up speed.

“You’re gonna have to fuck me with this sometime.”

“Oh,” Foggy said, gasping in realization. “Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, now shut up, I have work to do,” Matt said, leaning down to kiss him again. It was a novel thrill, to be able to kiss freely when he had been denied it for so long. He was relentless, hardly letting Foggy up to breathe until he was moaning loudly into his mouth and he was shuddering under him. Matt kept moving until Foggy squirmed violently on the floor. Broad hands landed squarely on his shoulders and Foggy gasped and whimpered deliciously.

“Oh my God,” Foggy said, his dick still in Matt’s hand. “Let go for a second, I need to tap out.”

Matt obeyed and rolled off of the other man to lie on his back beside him. He was careful not to touch Foggy now, not without his permission. They breathed heavily for long moments. The storm still raged on outside and the floor was cold. The world felt so small in those moments. The scope of everything narrowed to him and Foggy next to each other. Thunder cracked and Matt shrank in the face of God. The post-adrenaline shame was hitting him now. Foggy had been vulnerable and confused. It had been wrong to coerce him like this.

Slowly, Foggy’s hand flutters over his.

“You’re thinking too hard again. We’re okay, Matt. Everything’s fine.”

“So, what’s your verdict?”

“I’m willing. I’m still wrapping my head around all of this, but it feels right.”

He had been patient for so long. What would another week be? Another month or year? He had Foggy’s assurance that this wouldn’t ruin them. He had the smell of the two of them mingling in the tiny apartment. He had Foggy’s hand on his. He gave it a squeeze and sat upright.

“Take as long as you need. Just come to me when you’re ready,” Matt said, pressing one last kiss to Foggy’s forehead before heading to the bathroom to wash up.


End file.
